This is the story of the amorous cockroach and the blasé rat.
In the darkest parts of the dampest buildings, such as my kitchen, lurk many strange and wonderful creatures. They are unwelcome guests to many, for their night time habits and presence in old folktales have left them much maligned.
But by spending time with them (try one year) one can observe their peculiar and individual characters.
Last night I was attempting to cook linguini and tuna. Dusk fell and the light from the single dim and intermittent bulb created a chthonic scene of jagged shadows and black crevices. Just then the chorus of clicks, shuffles, and scratches began.
But I was not afraid.
You see of late I’ve been getting visits from a cockroach and a rat. The cockroach, all three-and-a-half inches of him, likes to sit on my bare foot while I mix the tuna flakes into my tomato sauce. And the rat likes to peek over the edge of the kitchen cabinets and scuttle back and forth along the open ledge at the top of the kitchen wall.
The point of this story is live and let live. We are all creatures on Planet Earth.
Or failing that there is always warfarin and mortein.